Emptiness
by Rose-Arwen-Padme
Summary: An POV of the widow Arwen as she walks through the place that will become her gravesite, Cerin Amoth.


_Summary:_ An Arwen POV as she walks through Cerin Amoth alone after Aragorn's death.

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**_Emptiness_**

**By Rose-Arwen-Padmé**

This truth is to heart-wrenching, too _cruel_, to be real. I cling to denial like a motherless child would cling to a statue, expecting shelter and warmth and receiving neither. It cannot be true, and yet my empty hand, hallow eyes, and cold touch are evidence of his departure. He…he has… _gone_.

The King of Gondor, the Lord of the Realms, Elessar, Aragorn, Strider, Elfstone, Longshanks, Wingfoot, Thorongil, Estel, Telcontar, The Dunedan, the Renewer.

Oh, so many names… so many titles. If someone were to write them all out, the words would probably be able to wrap around the world. He was the Man of Gondor. However, this is not why I loved him. I am a person who is incapable of falling in love with achievements and titles—at least he always knows… _knew _that. Title cannot embrace you, cannot capture you in a kiss, cannot grant you beautiful children.

The only stately title I could give him was the call of Captor of My Heart. I know he cherished the titles "husband" and "father" above all.

But now…

My sighs are long, loud, and painful. I walk along the bare floor of the once grand Loftlorien, the former heart of the Elven kingdom. I know that even if the majestic realm laid around me in its past glory, and not as its faded present self of dull moss and broken trees, my heart would still feel the emptiness…the freeze that reaches into my bones and bends them mercilessly. The wind blows, and its tune is hallow and without empathy. Its chilly touch scratches at my skin and cruelly beats my long hair into my pale face. My eyes wince-- I have not the motivation to clear the strands away. I could bring my dark hood closer around my face, and I could wrap my thick black cape nearer around my body, but what would be the use? The ice that I feel reaches past the skin, and cannot be covered and warmed by fabric.

How I begged him not to leave me!

_"Estel!__ Estel!" I cried, my heart breaking with every passing moment— moments that brought us closer to his unavoidable end. These moments slipped through my fingers as if I was vainly trying to hold sand._

_Even as I desperately watched him grasp my hand with his own trembling fingers and bring it to his pale lips, the light faded from his eyes and… from mine…_

Emptiness…

Loneliness…

_Such pain_…

Here now I come to the mound of Cerin Amoth, and the memories this place evokes spring new tears into my eyes and claw at my heart, the heart that I thought could endure no more. There are small patches of green grass here and there, but mostly the Middle Earth's floor beneath me is dead. _Like Estel. Like me._

Vaguely, I remember my farewells to our children before I departed. It was so excruciating to look upon them when their features reminded me so vividly of their recently passed father. I saw his nose, his chin, his lips, his eyes in them, and it was both overwhelming and heartbreaking. Sharing somber embraces and kisses; I made empty promises of surviving. I had tried to give them words of hope, but their father is… _was_ much better at it than I.

I will not survive. My father, my mother, my brothers, my grandmother, my… _dear_ Estel… they are all gone from me. They have been wrenched from my protective grasp by Fate. Fate and I, it seems, have always been at odds, always battling. _You have won, cruel Fate! Are you happy?! Are you finally satisfied with my grief and despair?_

By instinct, my hand and heart reaches out for my husband's comfort. As if given a telepathic gift, he always knew when I ached for him no matter the physical distance between us. But my brittle fingers snatch back as I remember that there will be no warmth, no comfort. Not this time, nor ever again.

I gasp suddenly with overwhelming agony, and my sob hitches in the back of my throat. My eyes are sore and sensitive from endless crying, and I'm not sure how much more I can take. Aragorn used to run his hands through my hair whenever I cried. I found it to be one of the most soothing ministrations of my life. The time we had together was much too short, a wisp in the expanse of time. The taunts of past times haunt me, voices sneering that I knew it would be like this. Everyone, especially my father-- especially _Aragorn_-- told me it would be so. Am I really surprised?

Slowly, gradually, I lay myself down on the place where I once stood with the mortal man. He captured my heart in his loving grip, and he could never let it go even when he wanted too, when he embarked on the fellowship's journey-- I wouldn't let him let give up. Our love once flowed through the leaves, the blades, the midsummer night's warm air as we pledged. I desperately hope that I may draw comfort from this space.

None comes.

My own breath seems to be harder to draw as my vision dims more and more. I do not fight for my mortality. I should have died the moment my husband took his last breath. This isn't life, for Estel doesn't exist with me. A paralyzing numbness begins in my fingers and toes and expands up my arms and legs.

So this is death…

_Mornië utúlië, mornië alantië._

My Estel must have received comfort, knowing that I was at his side when he passed from this world. I am not fortunate enough to have him with me. I have no one; the space around my frail body is empty of life.

The stale wind blows hard, and in it I hear my last wish, my last longing, being answered. It is the unmistakable sound of Estel's voice……

_"But neither, lady, is the Twilight for me; for I am mortal, and if you will cleave to me, Evenstar, then the Twilight you must also renounce."_

And with my breath fading so very quickly, I whisper in reply, "I will cleave to you, Dúndan, and turn from the Twilight." And any regrets I had before over my decision diminsh at the same rate as my pulse.

With the last beat of my heart, I whisper the last word I will ever say on Middle-Earth, the word the trees will sigh as they move in the wind for centuries to come… you will hear my final word if you listen…

"_Elessar__…_"

Emptiness…

Nothingness…

_…Elessar a Evenstar…_

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**_Finis_**

Elvish Translations:

_Mornië utúlië, mornië alantië. _ _Darkness has come, darkness has fallen down._

_…Elessar a Evenstar… …Aragorn and Evenstar…_


End file.
